The Night World Fables
by Salvatore Shan NW
Summary: A series of oneshots. What you shouldn't do when it comes to the Night World characters. First chapter is Jez and Morgead. Full of morals... trust me, it should be funny.
1. That Time Of The Month

**The Night World Fables  
**A Series Of One-Shots

Girls may find this funny, because it's a girl problem but boys might just be grossed out. _Sorry_!

* * *

**Created by: **Salvatore Shan NW  
**Chapter Number**: One  
**Chapter Title: **That Time Of The Month  
**Characters: **Jez and Morgead

* * *

That Time Of The Month

Jez was livid. Not because the man in the garage was refusing to fix her bike on account of her 'attitude problem' – no, it wasn't just that. It was that it was _that_ time of the month again, and she hated it! Sometimes she wished that vampires didn't have them either – then she could choose to be lamia at the time and relive the glory days – forget all about stupid periods!

But she was a girl. And she'd get through it with her head held high. Except this guy was pushing her – jamming her with every sentence into the ground. Her head was now bowed. She felt as if he had a jackhammer and was hitting her over the head with it every time he said 'no'.

Jez could hear Morgead tapping his foot outside impatiently. If the man thought _she_ had a behaviour problem, he did _not_ want to meet her soulmate!  
Jez scowled, ready to rant and rave at an instant's notice. Her head was pounding and all she could hear was the drip of oil tip tapping out from underneath a car.

The sound reverberated in her mind. She cringed and jammed her legs closer together. _Damn period!  
_"Listen…" she said through clenched teeth. "My boyfriend is waiting for me outside. We are going on a picnic. This is the first time I've been allowed out of my house due to a…an _illness_. I'd really appreciate it if you'd fix up my bike. It wasn't my fault someone ran into it last night!"

The engineer's eyebrows rose up into his hair, but his expression didn't falter. He looked sceptical. "The management reserves the right to refuse service to any customer," he said – and this made Jez boil. That was the _third_ time he'd said it. She clenched her fists.

"There isn't another garage this side of San Francisco that I can get to while walking." She tried very hard to sound polite, but also tried not to punch the man's face in. "Please. I'm begging you. Fix. It. _Up_." The words came out short – sharp and poisoned. The man snorted.

"If you carry on this way, I'll have to call the police." He smiled – showing a set of teeth, one of them glinting like gold.  
_Stupid, stupid human! _Jez thought.

She felt very, very uncomfortable. Glancing at the clock over the man's shoulder, she checked the time. Approaching one o'clock… seeing as she changed her Tampax every four hours – just to be safe – she intended to hop into a bathroom any time soon. She knew she was particularly heavy today…

"If you call the police that's not gonna make my bike go away," she pointed at it, jabbing the air furiously.

The engineer glanced at it. It wasn't a custom job. Just an ordinary black motorbike. But there was nothing ordinary about the beautiful girl before him. Still, he wouldn't let good looks faze him. She had a mouth the size of the Grand Canyon.

The motorbike wasn't too badly broken – he wouldn't even have to work on it long. The way the girl wanted it fixed so badly… she must really love that bike…  
He snapped out of it.  
Customers didn't get anywhere with him if they weren't nice. And this girl was on fire – he could see lines of anger creep across her forehead, her eyes were narrowed and her mouth was a tight line. Her nose was twitching; her blue-grey eyes were practically silver.

Jez's eyes snapped to the engineer's nametag. _Brian_. His name was Brian.  
Damn, if only she was a vampire… if only she had fed… then maybe she could've influenced him to fix her bike. Maybe she should call in Morgead after all…

Jez briefly noticed that a queue was gathering behind her. A man was flicking a leaflet between his fingers over and over, looking puzzled and distressed – his eyes fixed intently on the back of Jez's head, spying her flame-red hair.

Jez gritted her teeth. "Brian," she began smoothly, "I'll pay you _double_ if you do it. I don't care how much – just do it now."

Jez started shivering unpleasantly. Her stomach was aching – gnawing away inside of her. _Oh Goddess, I hate period pains. _She lowered her gaze and wrapped an arm around her abdomen. An old woman three places behind her in the queue piped up: "Are you alright, dear?"

Jez turned and half-smiled. She nodded, but the effect was lost when she cringed – the smile turning into a grimace. She turned back.  
_Brian_ still didn't react.  
"You wouldn't have enough money." He sneered. "Now, get out and take your piece of trash with you." He nodded at the bike.

Jez – though she was still in pain – lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were narrowed so much that the irises couldn't be seen through the thin slits the eyelids didn't cover. Brian saw fire dance in her pupils – an endless abyss of anger.

"What… did… you… call… my… bike?" Jez said, very, very slowly. She raised her head so she and Brian were only centimetres apart, tossing her fiery hair back over her shoulder. Her stomach twanged and she almost lost her balance, but she stared into Brian's face, fearlessly.

Brian wasn't stupid. He was used to bunny-boilers like this one and drunken louts. He wasn't afraid. "I called it 'a piece of trash'. The only thing I'd let you pay me to do with that is take it to the junkyard. Now get out of my garage and don't come back."

The threat was said to the wrong person at the wrong time.  
Jez was welling up with anger. She felt like she was going to burst. All the while there was that tap-tap-tapping of the oil in the background, and the nervous whispers of the waiting customers behind her. The old woman was sighing, apparently feeling sorry for Jez.

Jez grinned devilishly. _Time for reinforcements…_ "Morg–" but she stopped. Something felt horribly wrong. Was she… was she really–? She blushed furiously.  
"Can I use your bathroom?" she asked Brian suddenly, bouncing up and down uncomfortably.

Brian laughed out loud. "Not likely."  
"Please. Please, just for a second." Jez begged. "I really, really need to–"  
"I told you to _buzz off_!"  
"I promise I'll go afterwards…"

"No. I don't trust you. And what's more – why would I lend out a bathroom to a slut like you?" he raved. His words stung. Jez fell backwards, her feelings ripped up into shreds.

* * *

Morgead was singing outside. He couldn't hear the commotion from indoors. He was forever tapping his bike, humming to a Marilyn Manson song he didn't know the name off and looking wordlessly at the garage. He didn't know Jez was being refused service.

* * *

Some of the customers behind Jez were leaving. Good for them. Jez was so furious that her hair was practically standing on end. She no longer needed the bathroom – unfortunately she hadn't a hope in hell of stopping her blood flow in time. She might as well wait and go to a public toilet instead of demanding entrance into this one.

She balled her hands up into fists. "I'm going now." She said, head cocked on one side, arrogantly. She turned on her heel… but then Brian _did_ something. He did it so unexpectedly and so inappropriately that Jez blushed scarlet and whirled round, eyes aflame. _He slapped my ass?_

Brian was grinning, showing all of his teeth. It had been a good hard slap, and one of Jez's cheeks stung painfully. _The dirty pervert!_

Jez was furious… _and blood was running…_

She swore loud enough for Morgead to hear. Her soulmates' skin bristled like a cats and he started heading to the garage.  
_Too late._  
A gleam of blue light shot out from the garage door and illuminated the entire street brighter than the daylight ever could.

Morgead took a step back, covering his sensitive vampire eyes and hissing, unhappily. Electric bolts were leaping and dancing about the large, open driveway of the garage. He could hear someone screaming – a battle cry from Jez. It was low and angry…

Morgead gulped. The light snapped off suddenly – almost as if a switch had been flicked. He dared open in his eyes, saw that it was safe, and took a deep breath.  
"Jez?" he called, timidly. He crept into the garage.

What he saw there stunned him into silence.  
The man behind the till was blackened and sooty from head to toe. His eyes were wide open and unblinking – he was staring at Jez in disbelief.  
Jez was panting, her red hair flying about her elegantly – making her seem like a rogue demoness.

Her eyes flicked towards her bike. It… was… _ruined_!

She screamed.  
"_Damn blue fire_!" she screeched, ringing her arm angrily. "I should have asked one of those bloody witches to block it up after all!"

Morgead was shaking. Brian started blinking fervently.  
Jez slowly wheeled her bike back down the driveway, cursing like there was no tomorrow.

Brian stared at her retreating back, then let out a dramatic sigh and collapsed, thumping to the floor.  
Morgead's eyes followed his soulmate in disbelief.

Jez, realising she was being watched with keen, emerald-green eyes, stared back at him.  
"What?" she said innocently, letting go of her bike and raising her hands up to shrug.  
Her motorbike clattered to the floor and the handlebars detached themselves – running away from her down the driveway.

"DAMN IT!" Jez squealed, bending to pick them up.

Morgead started gibbering something, but then everything went black. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fainted – exasperated.  
Jez ran up to him, hands on hips – temporarily forgetting about her bike.  
She stuck a finger in her mouth, looking like a child who'd just been scolded.  
"Oops," she said simply and wondered how she would explain all this back at HQ. So much for a romantic picnic…

* * *

_The moral of this story is: never get a Wild Power angry when she is on her period. _

* * *

Done! Hope you liked it! Review if you want more and say what couples you want! 


	2. Hang Loose

**The Night World Fables  
**A Series Of One-Shots

If Delos seems out of character then sorry because I imagine that he'd be slightly thrown off balance from being in a human world and having loads of new things to see. I'm just trying to bring out his childish side.

This one won't be as funny as the last. It's just meant to be funny at the beginning – the end should make you go 'aww'. God, I only finished _Soulmate_ this morning – can you believe it? Loved it though.  
"_You buy an eight-hundred-dollar pen and then it doesn't write,"  
_Hee hee! Anyway. On with this chapter.

* * *

**Created by: **Salvatore Shan NW  
**Chapter Title: **Hang Loose  
**Characters: **Thierry and Hannah

* * *

Hang Loose

Occasionally a luminescent pink light bleached the large stained-glass window, but then eventually died back out – leaving the black rose hovering in the window with all its dignity.  
The mansion would have originally looked grand and elegant – had it not been for the large quantity of partiers going in and out through the front doors. Security had been lax all day – all except for the one nineteen-year-old boy standing watch outside, his brown hair tied back into a small ponytail.

Club music poured out through the doors like a light washing out of a refrigerator. The atmosphere bubbled loose, the music soared through the air until the air itself was a loudspeaker and the excited voices inside screamed and ranted until the door whistled shut again.

That didn't stop the noise _inside_. The whole mansion had been obliterated. Not in a chaotic or criminal way – items of expense were pushed aside, leaving a gigantic floor space. All courtesy of Hannah Snow, who was still pushing things to the side of the walls and occasionally catching expensive vases that fell from dizzying heights.

Thierry, however, was nowhere to be found. He'd caught a flight to New York the other day – top-secret business (not even Hannah knew about it) – and wasn't going to be home for a few days.  
That suited every one fine. They had the 'house' to themselves.

The games room had been emptied. The living room had been stripped bare. There was a giant party reaching out over the entire mansion and enclosing it like a shroud.  
A buffet had been laid out over the table in the dining room and – though no one noticed – Eric kept peeping in and pouring vodka into the punch bowl.  
No wonder Ash couldn't help falling over when he had his tenth cup of punch.

James and Poppy were acting as the DJs – their forte being techno music. But they played all sorts to keep people happy – jumping and jiving excitedly in their sound booths. It took some time to notice that there, in the thick of it, was Quinn and Rashel dancing like there was no tomorrow. They couldn't help but laugh. The once so serious couple were now drunk out of their heads.  
_Speaking of drunk…_

"Didn't I tell you there was something _in_ that punch!" Mary-Lynnette roared over the music, trying to pull Ash up off of the floor. She was failing terribly.  
Part of her was afraid that they were going to get trampled on, but the other part was threatening to make her giggle until her stomach was sore.  
What the heck? It was all part of the fun.

She bent down, kissed him on the lips and laughed so hard that she passed out.

Hannah walked around, arms folded. Her work here was done. Everyone here was having fun – screaming, dancing, kicking loose.  
Even Delos.  
She suppressed a giggle.  
Delos was… well, the only polite word for it was _insane_. He'd had a couple of drinks of punch – even though he knew it wouldn't do anything for his vampire appetite – and was pressing buttons on anything and everything.

Maggie was running around after him, grabbing him and telling him to stop being so excited. He was acting like a little kid. In fact – everyone was.  
Hannah shook her head. She was surprised that vampires could get drunk. But then – why not? Just because their metabolism was different to humans and they drunk blood didn't mean that they couldn't get pis–

She stopped. Something wasn't right.  
James and Poppy were nodding to the music – it was Marilyn Manson, _Personal Jesus. _Though it wasn't their thing, they seemed to be lost in it.  
That wasn't what was wrong.  
Quinn had plucked his t-shirt off. He was dancing atop a table and trying to tug Rashel up after him.  
That was _slightly_ wrong, but nope – it wasn't it.

Ash and Mary-Lynnette were being overcrowded on the floor, but didn't feel threatened. Ash had his face screwed up, his shirt was covered in spilt punch and Mary-Lynnette was breathing lightly on his chest as she slept. She was out cold.  
That was fine – so long as no one stepped on them.  
Hannah turned away.

Maggie was still running around after Delos.  
Eric and Thea were sat at the table in the dining room, eating finger sandwiches and sausages on sticks.  
Gillian and David were playing _Twister_ in the games room, along with Keller, Galen, Kestrel, Jade and Mark. It was hard to tell who was playing or watching, their roles seemed to switch unfairly.  
Jez and Morgead, however, were sat in front of their own TV in an anteroom, drinking Bacardi Breezers. They were watching a home movie… laughing and poking each other. But it was particularly obscene home video. Involving a bed and two very horny soulmates.  
Hannah blushed furiously, shut the door on them and tried to drown the thought of the video out of her mind.

Nope. The soulmate couples and Wild Powers were fine. No, wait… _Iliana_!  
"Straighteners are _so_ last season…" Hannah heard someone say as she ran past one of the downstairs bathrooms.  
She sighed. _That_ was the blonde Witch Child. She could breathe easy.

Everyone of importance was accounted for.  
Lupe was getting a piggyback from Poppy's twin brother, Phil (who had arrived last week), and was shouting things that amounted to 'yahoo' and 'yeeha'.  
The crowd was a gigantic body – _almost_ one person – moving together, screaming, ducking, diving and dancing.

Hannah wondered whether the neighbours would complain about the noise. She laughed to herself, feeling slightly alone that Thierry wasn't here.  
She should've saved her breath.

* * *

"How was the Big Apple, sir?" Nilsson asked, taking Thierry's heavy suitcase away from him and placing it in the back of the limousine.  
Thierry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He was at the airport – with Nilsson who had ditched his guard post. He had come running at his master's call.  
Even though Thierry had come back ahead of schedule, Nilsson was prepared to drop everything and come to him.

Thierry shook out his blonde hair and sighed again. "Well… how can I put this?" he grinned and then showed his PA a ruby-red box. "I found a perfect one,"  
Nilsson smiled and swung into the front seat of the limo. "I'm sure Lady Hannah will be thrilled, sir. Knowing your tastes it was undoubtedly expensive."

Thierry didn't know what to make of that statement. He climbed into the back and shut the door behind him.  
Leaning back into the leather chairs, he smiled to himself – fingering the jewellery box. "Put it this way, I had to search a dozen jewellers to find one quite like it,"

Nilsson started the engine up and looked in the rear-view mirror. Thierry saw the slope of his eyebrow as Nilsson looked at him sceptically.  
"Sir, what kind of ring where you looking for?" he asked. "Diamond rings aren't that rare, sir, unless it were a hefty amount of carats you were after…"  
Thierry shook his head as the car lurched out of Las Vegas airport's car park and purred away. He looked out of the window at the Mohave Desert.  
"I was looking for the _perfect_ engagement ring." He said slowly.

Nilsson stiffened in his seat. Then said, "Ah,"  
Thierry didn't like the way he said it.

"I'll double your salary, Nilsson, if you tell me what that is supposed to mean," Thierry frowned, folding his arms and staring at the back of the drivers seat.  
Hitting him where it hurt… Nilsson always buckled at the mention of his pay.

"It's just that, the house isn't how you left it, sir." He replied, shortly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove in the direction of the Strip.  
Thierry's eyes narrowed. "Did Hannah burn it down?" he asked, suspiciously.  
Nilsson held his breath. "Not quite."

Thierry leant forward in his seat, dangerously. "What? There's been major reworks?"  
Nilsson shook his head.  
"She crashed the car! Tell me she didn't crash the car," his tone was rushed, anxious.  
Nilsson shook his head.  
Thierry sighed, one thing taken care of. Then he looked exasperated. "What then?"  
"Trust me, sir. You'll see."

Nilsson didn't know whether his answer qualified to a raised salary or not. So he put his foot down on the pedal, and made it back to the Descouedres mansion in half the time.  
As soon as Thierry stepped out of the limo… his mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide.  
Then he looked lost for a minute.  
Nilsson parked the car and got out – turning to see Thierry standing a ways off.  
"Sir?" he called.

Thierry was shaking. He clenched his fists. His eyes meant business.  
"_Hannah_!"

* * *

Hannah froze. A telepathic voice rung out in her mind and she stood stock-still. _Thierry? He's back? Oh… Goddess!_

She ran to the back of the living room, throwing people aside. "James! Poppy! Cut the music!" she screamed. They didn't hear her. They were playing Daft Punk, and they weren't in the mood to turn it off.  
Hannah threw herself forward, grabbing hold of the sound booth. Next she clung on to the curly-haired vampire-girl and tugged off her headphones.  
James simply looked startled.

"Cut the music. _Now_!"  
A flick of a switch and then the house was thrown into silence.  
Everybody looked about. Dazed.

"What the–?" Quinn blinked furiously, then looked down. Rashel stared at him, at a loss for words.  
His hands were clinging to the belt on his jeans. They were poised – ready to yank it off. As soon as the music had been killed, the craziness had evaporated.  
"Was I gonna–?" he began.

Someone from the crowd called, "Nice abs, Johnny-boy!"  
Quinn went pale, grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on. "I wouldn't be that stupid," he said under his breath. Rashel stared at him through heavy-lashed eyes, titled and cat-like.

Ash and Mary-Lynnette shook their heads a few times then stood up.  
"Hey! What happened to the music?" Ash called.  
Everyone was chatting and gibbering.  
Hannah grabbed the microphone that sat on one of the sound booths and leant forward. "Thierry's here! Everybody tidy up! NOW!"

Everybody froze. Then immediately they ran about – pulling rugs back, straightening paintings, placing vases on tables, sorting out statues and sculptures.  
Iliana's beauty session ended. She crammed all her hair-things and make-up into her arms and ran up to her room in the east wing, leaving a distressed Jean McCartney looking about with her hair tied back and heavily blushed cheeks.  
Maggie came along and helped her friend upstairs, while Jean scrubbed furiously at the make-up.

Delos, having had his soulmate removed from his back for a while, went into the kitchen. Bad mistake.  
Most of Thierry's servants – including Chef – had been sent on a well-deserved holiday. With no one there to mind him, Delos was being over curious and eating practically all the food in the cupboards.

When the house was in a proper state ready for Thierry's eyes, Hannah stood waiting in the large hallway. Everybody else had gone to bed, all except Jez and Morgead who were busy making out in one of the anterooms.

The door opened. Thierry had somehow known to stay outside while all the tidying up had been going on. Hannah wondered whether she'd let anything slip due to the soulmate principle. She worried her bottom lip – chewing it nervously.

The tall, blonde vampire stood silhouetted in the open doorway. He was taking shaky breaths. Hannah's heart lurched at the side of him – he was _home_! But she kept still.  
"How was New York?" she asked, sweetly, cupping her hands in front of her. She hoped she looked innocent.

Thierry stepped forward and shut the front door behind him. "It rained practically every day," he replied quietly, then in a politer tone said: "What happened here?"

Hannah laughed nervously, almost sounding flattered and flirtatious. "Oh, we had a little party – no biggy,"  
"No biggy?" Thierry repeated. "Well then, why is Lupe outside on the front lawn howling at the moon – in human-form? Why are Keller and Galen in the back garden chasing their tails? Why was the music so loud that I could hear it out here and where the _hell_ are the rest of the guards?"

"G-Garden? Y-You were in the garden?"

"I wanted to know whether the commotion in here was the same outside. Ash threw up over the patio when I was stood there, Val Stillman was break dancing and most of our witches were skyclad, doing a spell so they wouldn't have a hangover in the morning!"

Hannah slapped her forehead. She'd forgotten the garden. She'd thought nobody had gone out there – she thought that it was spotless.  
"As it is," Thierry was continuing, "One of the fountain's are busted and Delos collapsed into one of the bushes – he completely flattened it. All that is 'no biggy'?" His tone was cold.  
Hannah shut her eyes, readying herself for his shouts.

But Thierry didn't shout. Instead he broke into a smile. "You were _that_ glad to get rid of me?"  
She opened her eyes. "What?"  
"Why did you guys get to have fun while I was away? You should have kept partying."

"But… But you sounded really mad when you called me. Aren't… Aren't you mad?" Hannah stuttered.  
Thierry sighed. "I was worried. There were no guards, you could have gotten in trouble."

"But now that Maya's gone and Hunter's gone and… and… well, I guess… I thought we were safe."

"Thank Goddess you are," Thierry smiled. He kissed her on the cheek.  
"Here," he pulled out the small jewellery box from his trouser pocket. "I got this for you,"  
He opened it and when Hannah gasped he knew it had all been worthwhile. He smiled brilliantly – his eyes bright.  
The ring was as perfect in Hannah's eyes as it was in his. The band that wound round the finger started with a looping curl and ended with one – so they clashed together perfectly and erupted with a diamond that shone like a rainbow in the overhead light.  
Hannah made to retrieve it, when Thierry stopped her.

He got down on one knee.  
Hannah's eyes flew open. _So… So it wasn't just a gift? H-He was really g-gonna…_  
"Will you marry me?" Thierry asked.  
Hannah trembled. Warmth spilled out of her eyes and she realised she was crying.  
Then she started laughing and crying at the same time. "Yes! _Yes_! Of course I will!"

Then they were in each other's arms. The sadness in Thierry's eyes had been wiped out forever. As they held each other, he slipped the ring onto Hannah's finger.

Hannah sighed. "Hannah Descouedres." She mused, then ruffled Thierry's hair.  
He smiled.  
Behind them, Jez and Morgead poked their heads out from one of the anterooms. They looked on guiltily.

_On the count of three_, Morgead told Jez. She nodded wordlessly. _One… two… three… _Together they snuck upstairs, tiptoeing behind Hannah and Thierry as quiet as they could possibly manage.

Thierry and Hannah broke apart, grinning brightly.  
"So," Thierry began, "can I have some punch now?"  
Hannah nodded fervently. "I'll have some, too,"

It was a pity that Hannah was the only one who didn't know that Eric had poured the equivalent to a whole bottle of alcohol in the punch bowl.  
It was also a pity when Jez and Morgead remembered that they'd left their video in the VCR.  
_That_ was a shock in the morning.

_The moral of this story is: never throw a party for Daybreakers… it always has a habit of going wrong._

* * *

DONE!  
Skyclad means naked for all you people that might be wondering. I know it's not that good and it's not funny but I tried my best. Ahh, my first fic for Hannah and Thierry. It's weird writing and reading about someone with the same name as you… it's hard because you keep writing them as yourself and give them your personality. It's just as well that Hannah Snow has _slightly_ the same personality as me.  
Review! 


End file.
